Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2)
Read Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) Online
Authors: Patricia H. Rushford
Tags: #FIC030000, #FIC022040
© 2004 by Patricia H. Rushford
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-3944-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
CONTENTS
ONE
Sunday, May 4
Dear Dr. Campbell,
For obvious reasons, I can’t tell you who I am. For now, consider me a guardian, an avenger, an angel of death—your alter ego. I think that if you were not constrained by your position, you would do the same. You talk against violence, but deep down, you know it’s the only way.
The police are calling what I did to Jim Kelsey a murder. That’s far too strong a word. I didn’t murder the man, I simply disposed of a piece of garbage. Men like Jim Kelsey deserve to die. Don’t you agree?
This isn’t a confession letter, if that’s what you are thinking. I have no real guilt about it other than being incensed that the police would stoop so low as to think his sweet wife would kill him. She didn’t.
Perhaps that’s why I write—to somehow free her from police tyranny once and for all. And that brings me to the second part of my letter.
Something needs to be done about Phillip Jenkins. After his last episode . . . That’s what his wife calls them—episodes. I call them blowouts. Like the tires on a car when the pressure builds up and makes them explode, spewing rubber all over the highway. Phillip explodes, spewing his rage all over the people who should mean the most to him.
Seeing Candace all beat up and crying, after his last “episode,” I swore it was the last time he would ever hurt anyone again. He should go to prison for his crimes. And that’s what they are—crimes. But Candace won’t take a stand, so someone has to.
Rage seeps into my bones just thinking about the injustice. I laid awake all night staring at the ceiling, praying for an answer. Then it came, bright and clear as crystal. Having made the decision, I feel stronger and more powerful.
I know something Phillip Jenkins doesn’t know. I know the very day and hour he will die.
Dragonslayer
TWO
B
y 7:00 on Tuesday morning, Angel had run two-and-a-half of her five miles; then she detoured inland from the hard-packed sand left by high tide and aimed for what had become her favorite house in Sunset Cove.
The newly remodeled two-story home held her admiration for three reasons. First, the place had become a work of art. The owner had turned the rundown shack into a showplace. Second, a cute little dog waited for her at the door every morning. Third, and most important, the house belonged to the new love in her life, Callen Riley, Detective Callen Riley with the Oregon State Police.
She imagined the handsome detective pulling her into his arms and telling her how much he’d missed her. She sighed and reined in her fantasy. There would be no hugs and kisses this morning. Callen had been gone for nearly a week, working a case involving a missing high school girl from Florence, a town about one hundred miles south of Sunset Cove on the Oregon coast.
God, please keep her safe. Let her be found alive.
Angel prayed for the Grant girl every day. And every day, Angel hoped that she’d turn on the news and learn that the teenager hadn’t been abducted—that she had simply gone off on an adventure.
Callen was helping with the search and following up on leads. When she’d talked to him the night before, he told her he’d be
coming home today. So, until tonight, she’d have to settle for doggy kisses.
Angel’s jog slowed to a plodding walk as her feet sank into the soft sand. She loved the Oregon coast despite the rainy season, which sometimes seemed to last all year. Behind her and to the west lay the Pacific Ocean. The Coastal Mountains rose to the east, creating peaks and valleys covered with vast green forests through which creeks and rivers tumbled from deep snowbanks into lakes and coves, finally making their way into the ocean. Clouds hovered over the water today, creeping closer to shore and threatening rain.
The sun had risen in a glorious array of colors, reminding Angel of the old fisherman’s ditty, “Red sky at night, sailors delight; red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”
Sunset Cove lay at the base of the Coastal range. The sloping hills were perfect for building elegant ocean-view homes. The cove itself lay between two hills, forming a bowl at their base. A channel ran from the cove to the ocean. While Angel appreciated the luxurious developments on the hillsides, she preferred the diverse oceanfront properties with homes of various shapes and sizes and values. Maybe because she’d grown up about a mile north of Callen’s home, with the beach in her backyard and the ocean only a hundred or so yards away at high tide.
Angel had recently moved out of her parents’ home to a place not far from the beach. She now had the view and the rent payments to go with it. The rent, unfortunately, had become somewhat of a problem of late. But that was another story.
Mutt, Callen’s dog, barked when she came up over the dunes where he could see her. Every morning he waited for her at the sliding patio door. And every morning he yelped a greeting that had all the earmarks of a scolding mixed in with obvious glee.
“Morning, Mutt!” She pulled out the key Callen had given her, unlocked the door, and carefully slid it open, holding back the exuberant white ball of fluff with her foot. Once she’d squeezed inside, she scooped the dog into her arms and buried her face in his silky fur. She still couldn’t get used to calling the bichon frise “Mutt.”
Mutt hadn’t been Callen’s first choice for a dog. His wife, Karen, had loved the breed, and Callen couldn’t have refused her anything in those last months of her life. Karen had lost her battle with cancer two years ago, but Mutt stayed on, having secured a place in Callen’s heart. Even though the breed didn’t seem to go with a macho detective, Angel couldn’t imagine a better fit.
“Did you miss me? Oh, poor puppy. You’re lonesome for Callen, aren’t you?”
Mutt barked in agreement.
“Me too. Okay, let’s take you potty, then we’ll get you some fresh water and food.” Angel winced at the tone of her voice. Never did she think she’d be talking baby talk to a dog.
Mutt whimpered when she put him down, lifting his paws and prancing around on his hind legs. Angel reached for his leash and fastened it on his collar. “Ready to go outside?”
He cocked his head from side to side, sticking his nose against the glass.
“What am I saying? Of course you are. Okay, let’s go.” Angel opened the door and followed as he strained at the leash, acting as though he hadn’t been outside in days. She closed the door behind them and allowed him to pull her across the stained wooden deck and down the two steps to the beach.
Mutt was definitely in his element, sniffing at the sea leavings and barking at seagulls that ventured too close. Down on the beach, he scampered into the water and out, shaking vigorously after each dip and gifting Angel with saltwater sprays. He pushed through a clump of seaweed with his nose and sneezed.
After ten minutes of romping and exploring, Mutt headed back to the house, pausing to do his duty on the way. Inside, the dog settled into the business of eating breakfast, and when he finished, he curled up on his pillow for a nap.
Ordinarily, Angel might have hurried the process along, but not today—and not this week. She wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything. Without a job, life had become unbearably boring. While she didn’t especially enjoy a life of leisure, the prospect of going back to work at the Sunset Cove Police Department seemed overwhelming.